


Stay Silent

by Runa_Kamoran



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Female Chara, Female Frisk, Literary References & Allusions, Multi, Mute Frisk, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Ritual Sacrifice, Survival Horror, Translation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2019-10-28 13:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17788253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Runa_Kamoran/pseuds/Runa_Kamoran
Summary: Six years have passed since she woke up on the outskirts of Silent Hill. Six years since she lost her memory and her voice. It's been so long since she could find the courage to come here, to the place where it all began.This town called her in her dreams. This town hid her memories.But it won't give up its secrets so easily.





	1. Prisonic Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> This is a translation of my work (you can find the original here! https://ficbook.net/readfic/7609235). I don't think it's perfect, and it probably contains a lot of mistakes and stuff... sorry for that. I'll try to improve it as much as I can, and maybe translate more works in the future. I hope you will enjoy it anyways.

  
_I'm glad you're here._  
_I see you're well._  
_You're welcome home._  
_Embrace your Hell._

Everything seemed so old and abandoned.

After several attempts, the rusted faucet turned on and splashed out a stream of reddish water. She washed her hands slowly, then hesitantly gathered water in her palms and splashed her face. The liquid smelled of swamp and rust, but its cold was pleasantly refreshing. After pulling some paper towels out of her backpack, Frisk dried herself and looked in the mirror.

 _It’s still you_. The dark-skinned, snub-nosed girl with sharp shoulders and black hair disheveled and short like an untrimmed bush. With brown, always narrowed eyes and plump cheeks, an ordinary kid brought here by who knows why.

Everything here seemed so old, abandoned and gloomy – not a place where children should walk alone.

Uncertainly, Frisk scratched the bandage on her nose, just to convince herself that everything is real. She didn’t really remember how she got to the town. Memories seemed like scraps — an empty bus shaking on an old, jagged road, the empty bus stop, a thin path hidden in a fog — and finally, an old, shabby sign with the long faded gold letters: “Welcome to Silent Hill!”.

She shook her head and took a deep breath, banishing all of her obsessive doubts. It's too late to come back now.

The public toilet looked ancient. No one cleaned it for a long time. Once white, tiles grayed with time and were covered with a layer of dirt and mold, the plaster cracked and crumbled to bits. In addition, it smelled of damp and rot as if no one came here for several years. What a sad place.

She lifted up her backpack and went out into the street.

She asked a lot of people about Silent Hill. Educators, teachers, friends, acquaintances, strangers on the bus, the cashier at a gas station on the way. They all knew that something had happened in this town, but no one could say what exactly it was. One thing was clear - after some ecological disaster, the residents left the town, and now the small, cozy resort is almost deserted. Someone said that it was because of the marsh gases that arose from the bottom of the lake; someone blamed the fire in nearby mines that covered the town with a dome of toxic smoke. Someone, however, said that all of those were idle rumors. Tourists just stopped providing a small remote town, its folks were left without workplaces and went away looking for a better life.

Anyway, Silent Hill seemed to be frozen in time.

It was noon, but the sun was barely visible behind a thick haze of clouds and fog. The observation deck stood alone on a hill, revealing a good view of lake Toluca. Surrounded by tall, old pines, it was hidden under a veil of whitish mist. Frisk walked up to the crumbling stone wall.

In her restless dreams, she saw this town... Silent Hill. She didn’t know anything about it other than the name. Just didn’t remember. All that remained of her past was a crumpled birth certificate and a Tarot card with a picture of The Fool. The first find gave her a name - Francesca Dorothea Dolores, and told that her parents had left her in a local orphanage. The second find didn’t even give any guesswork, just more mysterious questions that the silent Fool was in no hurry to answer.

Six years ago, she woke up on the side of the road, next to this town, and everything that had happened up to this moment in her life was hidden by fog. All she remembered was the sound of rain in an impenetrable night, a blinding light and squeal of wheels, and then that man... What was his name again? Is it Trevor or... no, Travis - is bending over her, shaking her shoulders and asking anxiously: “Are you alright? What happened? What's your name?”

But... she couldn’t answer. The memory was blank, and her tongue vibrated for nothing, unable to form a word.

There, somewhere far into the night, the sirens were howling deafeningly.

Every night that memory came back to life. The sound of rain, wet clothes and cold chilling her to the bone. Her hands were in pain from burns - she never remembered where they came from. The gnashing of metal is cutting her ears, and a multi-ton machine stops in yards away from her shaking body. Travis's unshaven and worried face hangs over her and asks what happened.

Finally, she gathered determination to find out.

The parking lot was empty; the road leading to the town was blocked for road works. However, neither workers, nor tourists, nor locals were around. Frisk looked again at the empty highway leading to Brahms and headed down the stairs. A large, rather faded blue sign with “Lake Toluca” were pointing at a narrow path. It went down, twisted among the trees and hid in the fog.

Summer was in full bloom, but no one hurried to come here and admire the coniferous forest and the clear lake surface. There was no wind that could play among the branches and make some noise. Silent Hill justified its name completely. The only sound in perfect silence was the girl’s own steps and the crunch of gravel under her feet.

To distract herself from unpleasant thoughts, Frisk ran as fast as she could. The path led down to the foot of the hill and went deeper into the forest. How strange. It’s only August now, but rare deciduous trees have turned red already, their foliage has fallen down. From the run, the girl jumped right into a pile of red leaves and whirled around, scattering them with her legs.

She laughed, but her laugh gave a dull, eerie echo, and Frisk fell silent.

The road led her deeper, leaped to the lake and moved into the forest again. Soon the outlines of settlements appeared - wooden fences, the silhouettes of houses in the fog and old, moss-grown stone well. Frisk looked inside for the sake of curiosity - it was dry for a long time.

When it seemed that the path would never end, an iron gate appeared from the haze. It wasn’t locked and creaked, opening, letting Frisk into a wide, grass-covered field. At first, she thought it was a certain recreation area, but after going further she realized she was wrong. Tombstones were sticking from the grass like mossy boulders, most of them broken and very old. A small church was looming slightly far away.

Frisk moved forward uncertainly. She wasn’t sure if she took the right way - it’s easy to get lost in such fog. When stopping at the only gas station on the way here, she tried to buy a map of the town, but didn’t find it. The cashier shrugged his shoulders: “Anyway, no one goes in this musty little town anymore".

The cemetery seemed completely neglected. Many tombstones were broken; many just collapsed out of age and were crumbling slowly. All tracks are long overgrown with grass and wild flowers. After wandering around a while in search of a way out, the girl went to the church and noticed a blurred dark silhouette next to the porch. Frisk slowly approached closer.

The woman, in a black monastic robe with a belt, silently stood near a line of graves. These tombstones were located far from the rest and looked much newer. The girl approached, and the woman turned around, hearing her footsteps.

Her calm, imperious face with straight features was decorated with thin wrinkles in some places. Slanted eyes with long eyelashes, a sharp chin and nose, hair neatly arranged in a short tail - she looked well-groomed, elegant and strict. The woman smiled and put a hand on her chest, then said:

“Greetings. How can I help you, child? Are you lost?”

Her thin, long fingers squeezed the golden heart-shaped locket as if nervously or uncertainly. Frisk lowered her eyes and nodded silently.

“Don't be afraid, child,” despite the unexpected anxiety that slipped in her movements, woman's voice sounded perfectly calm. “I'm sister Chara, the caretaker of this cemetery and faithful servant of the Order. I come here every day to watch over this place. You are the first who visited our town for a very long time. Oh, you must be so confused”, she grinned. “The town doesn't look like those photos in tourist brochures, is it?”

Without looking up, the girl nodded again.

“I see. Now, if you want to go in town, follow the road at the right side of the semetery. And be careful out there. It may be dangerous to walk alone in place like this.”

The girl was lost in thoughts for a second. Then she raised her hands and signed “Excuse me, I need your help”, hoping that the woman would understand her. She signed slowly, but, seeing Chara’s confused face, she realized it was hopeless. Of course, what was she thinking?

“I beg your pardon”, surprised woman only shook her head. “I don't understand”.

Instead of answering, the girl reached for her backpack. The woman watched with interest as Frisk pulled out a notebook and showed it to her.

 _“I can’t talk, so I’m communicating through writing or sign language. Please be patient and sorry for any problems!”_ , was written on the cover. Under the inscription were drawings of flowers and a sad face.

“Oh! It's no problem at all”, Chara was embarrassed, but quickly regained her original friendly look. “Take as much time as you need."

Frisk nodded, opened her notebook and began to write. Other adults usually responded with much less tolerance. Some of them even refused to talk with her or avoided her. God, what did she do to deserve this beautiful woman?

The girl showed her the writing:

_“I'm looking for Toluca County orphanage. Do you know where it is?”_

“Of course, I know where it is. The Wish House has been managed by the Order for many years. It's located in the area of Old Silent Hill, on the other side of the lake”, Chara hesitated for a second and once again rubbed her pendant between fingers. “There was a bus coming right to the place... but now you have to go on foot.”

 _“It seems to be far away,”_ the girl wrote.

“Unfortunately,” Chara nodded and stopped abruptly. “Oh, where are my manners! I didn't even ask your name.”

 _“It's Frisk,_ ” came the quick reply. Of course, it was a nickname, invented just because she didn’t like her real name. There was another reason why Frisk didn’t want to reveal herself; most likely the police now looking for her, the girl who had run away from the orphanage in broad daylight. But Chara doesn’t need to know about this.

“What an unusual name,” the woman said with a familiar smile. “Anyway, you shouldn't stay here, Frisk. Come, I will take you to the town.”

She held out her hand, and the girl froze for a moment in bewilderment. Then she hid the notebook in her backpack and hesitantly lifted her hand. The woman didn’t take away hers, but only laughed weakly, showing her white teeth:

“Come on. I won't bite, promise.”

Frisk smiled back and took her hand. Chara led her along the lines of tombstones, while the girl examined their palms. Woman’s fingers were long, but strong and seemed used to play piano or cut meat. Chara didn’t take away her hand or looked at the girl with a mixture of fear and disgust. Chara weren’t rude to her, not even once, - to the annoying, lost kid she had seen for the first time in her life. Frisk squeezed her hand a little harder - she didn't want to let it go.

They left through the gate on the other side of the cemetery, being on a broad dirt road. The fog thickened in a dense veil, hung in shreds on spruce tops, hiding the sky. The visibility was very bad because of it – can’t see anything from a couple of foots away. Chara confidently moved forward, easily navigating on the crossroads. Frisk thought that without a guide she would’ve been lost for a long time and wandered in the forest until she came back to the observation desk.

“By the way, Frisk,” Chara broke the silence and the girl’s lingering thoughts, “are you all alone? Your parents know that you're here?”

The girl frowned, nodded stubbornly and lowered her head so the dark strands of hair hid her reddened face. Guilt stuck in the stomach like nasty lump. She couldn’t tell Chara the details, but it’s a shame to lie to the only person who treated you like a human being. Fortunately, the woman didn’t ask further. Probably, in any other situation, she would’ve found it strange... but, probably, Chara is just very polite and respectful.

A few old wooden houses appeared from the mist, surrounded by an old leaning fence. Some cars were left in some places along the road - they looked abandoned and forgotten, like everything around. "Silent Hill Ranch” didn’t seem so lively either. There’s no singing of birds or the cries of animals — just quiet footsteps. Chara turned onto a narrow path between the hills, and the empty houses disappeared from sight.

Frisk was starting to get nervous. This place was unnaturally quiet and seemed abandoned for many years. On the other hand, they just passed the outskirts; maybe the town itself will be more welcoming. To chase away the frightening silence, she weakly pulled the woman by the sleeve:

“Yes?” Chara turned to her, and Frisk pointed a finger on her heart-shaped locket. “Do you want me to tell about myself?”

After received a nod in response, she almost shined with wide happy smile on her face.

“I didn't think it would interest you. I dedicated most of my life to serving God and the Order.”

Of course, they were taken to church on Sundays and taught to read prayers. But Frisk wasn’t very interested in religion and felt a strange, inexplicable rejection to it. For now she just wanted to behave politely. After all, Chara helps her, despite her own work duties. Frisk just wanted to somehow repay her for this kindness and feel less of a burden.

Meanwhile, Chara continued:

“Our Order has been formed soon after the foundation of Silent Hill, when English settlers mingled with local Native American tribes. We worship God, who gave us happiness, created time and divided it into day and night. She appreciates order, faith and loyalty, and opens the way to Paradise for those who have been devoted to her virtues. Brothers and sisters of the Order help this city and its inhabitants in every way, even if Silent Hill is not the same as it was before.”

After passing by several transformer stations, their procession ended on a small fenced waste-ground littered with garbage. Ahead laid a gray, cracked structure opening the way to a low-ceiling tunnel. Frisk hesitated, and Chara stopped with her.

“I know, it's not the best place, but this is the shortest way to the town. At least since the main highway was closed for road works. Don't be afraid, let's go.”

She confidently stepped inside, and the girl reluctantly followed nearby. The dark, cramped tunnel smelled of wet and didn’t cause anything but anxiety and a desire to quickly get away from here into the fresh air. The walls, in chips and leaks, were covered with torn leaflets and graffiti, pale with time.

Chara opened the gate with the words "Danger! Keep out”, completely ignoring the sign, and led the girl further into the gloom. The tunnel was almost left behind when Frisk stopped again.

Her attention was drawn by a graffiti, which was very different from everything she had ever seen. Rather, it was a picture of a seal neatly drawn with red paint. The outer ring, with a chain of strange symbols inside, and the inner one, with a triangle and a serpentine zigzag enclosed inside. Frisk didn’t know what kind of sign it is... but something in it seemed frighteningly familiar.

As if she had seen this before, but the memory of it was safely hidden in the fog inside her head.

The feeling of déjà vu was replaced by a sharp, hot pain in the back of her head, as if someone suddenly hit her with a stone. Her sight was darkened for a second, ears packed with an unpleasant cutting noise. The girl shuddered and unwillingly scratched her hair.

“Is everything all right?” Chara’s worried voice seems to have flown to her from the bottom of the well.

Frisk nodded, then pointed to a mysterious drawing. The fog in her head gradually dissipated, although the feeling of deja vu didn’t disappear. Chara smiled knowingly and began to tell:

“Ah, it's the Seal of Metatron. One of the symbols that is used by the Order. It's a magic sign; it grants power and dispels witchcraft. Local folks paint it on the walls quite often to protect their homes from evil forces and devilry.”

The girl thanked Chara, waving an open palm from her chest to the woman several times. Although Chara didn’t know sign language, she understood the meaning and answered with a smile. The tunnel led them to a narrow concrete embankment with a low fence. Down below, at the foot of the hill, the river was gurgling softly, hidden by fog. The road went higher like serpentine. The dark, blurry silhouettes of houses were barely distinguished from here.

“This is Wiltse Road. We're almost there.”

Pines, empty cars, shabby fences and silent houses appeared before her again. The town wasn’t in a hurry to change and greet the guest with a sound and light. Finally, Chara led her onto the highway, wide and completely empty.

“Welcome to Silent Hill, child.”

  
***

“Right now we're on the southern shore of lake Toluca, in the area of South Vale. You have to go north, along Neely Street, then you will find yourself on Nathan Avenue. Follow it until you see a crossroad, then turn right on West Sanford Street. It will lead you to Lakeside Amusement Park. Turn on Bachman Road and head north until you find yourself in the area of Old Silent Hill. Did you write it down?”

Frisk looked up from the notebook and nodded uncertainly. Perhaps she would be able to find a way, even in an unfamiliar place, because there were signs everywhere and she could ask the locals... but she wouldn’t want to be alone in this town for anything in life. She tried to blame her anxiety and sick imagination, but now, looking around, the girl suddenly thought that running away from the orphanage without warning anyone was probably, _probably_ not the best idea.

The town didn’t look better than its outskirts; it looked worse. Like that old public toilet, but larger. The houses, withered, crumbling in front of their eyes, seem to have stood empty for ages. Time, wind and dampness disfigured them, the windows disappeared under a layer of dirt. Once well-groomed lawns had turned into thickets of tall grass and overgrown untrimmed bushes. Abandoned cars were left along the streets and in the parking lots, already gnawed by rust in some places. Dark silhouettes of thin lanterns emerged out of the fog. There was no light in the houses, no car engine noises, no human voice could be heard, not even wind howling. Complete silence froze over Silent Hill.

If Frisk didn’t know that Chara lives here, she would say that this town is dead. Abandoned by its inhabitants, like those ghost towns in history books.

“Well, it's time for us to part ways.”

The girl shuddered with all her body; Chara's voice next to her suddenly seemed deafeningly loud. She nodded reluctantly and rubbed her hands nervously, not daring to ask for help again. The woman noticed her dismay.

“Although... maybe I shouldn't leave you here all alone. It's such a terrible fog today.”

Frisk answered her with a nervous smile.

“I can take you through South Vale; I live just along the way. Besides,” Chara reached for her locket and began to rub it with her fingers, “why don't you come to visit? We could drink some good tea, and besides, I have a map of the city somewhere. At the same time I will notify the senior educator at the Wish House that you will come.”

Restraining her desire to immediately agree, the girl lowered her eyes uncertainly. She couldn’t go anywhere with strangers... but Chara has always been kind to her after all. She is a priestess. The priests were the only ones who treated them humanly. Frisk didn’t like to go to church, but the people who worked there remained polite and courteous, even when they had to deal with a crowd of disabled orphans. She had no reason not to trust Chara.

Frisk looked around the creepy town once more and nodded in response to the proposal.

***

To break the silence, Chara told stories to her. About the Blood Swamp, where executioners washed their weapons once, about local tribes and a magic stone that can summon the dead, about a small ship that disappeared in Toluca lake without a trace. The urban legends, with which Silent Hill’s history abounded, were as frightening and mysterious as the town itself. Tourists probably liked them a lot.

But in those days, Silent Hill was different. It was full of life, light and sounds. People around whom life is in full swing don’t think about death.

Frisk didn’t thought about it, either. These fairytales didn’t differ much from the horror stories that children used to frighten each other in long, sleepless nights. To think, even Chara was like a fairy godmother – kind, beautiful, charming, but mysterious partner helping her for no particular reason. And Frisk enjoyed this prisonic fairytale since it was the most bewitching moment in her uneventful life. And yet, something — perhaps, it was the fog, or a sense of abandonment, or the mystic atmosphere surrounding Silent Hill — made these stories more alive, made believable, despite all skepticism.

Therefore, after seeing the silhouette of a girl in the distance, Frisk was barely surprised that she was standing in the air, a yards above the ground.

Captivated, Frisk stopped, not noticing how her palm slipped out from Chara’s hand. The girl was standing on the other side of the street, barely touching store signs with her toes. She looked about six or seven years old - the silhouette was half hidden by fog, so Frisk couldn’t tell for sure. The girl’s clothes were simple and strict - a blue dress with long sleeves and a white collar, white knee-highs and simple shoes.

As if noticing a stranger glance at her, the girl looked up. Her face, unnaturally pale, was framed by black hair, and suddenly seemed familiar. Sadness froze in her gray eyes.

. _..Alessa?_

The girl turned away and stepped forward on the air. Her body melted away in a fog, like forgotten dream.

_... who’s Alessa?_

“Don't fall behind, child,” Chara’s voice called to Frisk, her dark silhouette hardly distinguished among the fog. “You can get lost.”

Waking from her trance, Frisk hurried after the woman, unable to dismiss the feeling of being watched.

In the end, she threw off these thoughts to free her heavy head. She came here to remember her past, and, - slowly and painfully, - she remembered at least something. Perhaps Chara will tell her more.

Taking a deep breath, the girl straightened, squeezed the priestess’ hand and came deeper into the fog, filled with hope and determination.


	2. Kill Angels

The Wood Side Apartment was located at the very end of Katz Street. Chara said that Nathan Avenue is a stone's throw away from here; it’s enough to turn the corner and walk along another street. Perhaps, this foggy veil gave the impression that the town is a huge impassable labyrinth, but in fact Silent Hill wasn’t so big.

The hall was empty and filled with darkness. Chara said that owner of the apartment building rarely visits this place and comes here only once for a month to check the apartments and collect a fee from its residents. They ascended to the second floor, and Chara led her into a room at the end of the corridor, next to the fire exit. The building seemed as quiet as the whole town. It’s unlikely it was inhabited by many tenants.

Chara's small two-bedroom apartment turned out to be the most pleasant place in Silent Hill, as if it was the only place where life still existed. Living room, kitchen, tiny bathroom and small bedroom. No frills. A simple pot of flowers on the coffee table for decoration, and shelves filled with books to the top. Clean and comfortable den for one.

“Forgive me for the mess. I didn't have guests for a long time,” Chara quickly removed her shoes. “Please, settle down. I'll make tea for now.”

Frisk nodded, took off her shoes and jacket, then moved into the living room. There's only a sofa, two armchairs, a table and a bookcase from furniture. Not wanting to disturb the woman, the girl sat on the sofa and decided to wait for Chara to return. She rattled the dishes behind the wall, probably doing tea.

Frisk’s attention was attracted by a book lying next to the flower pot. It looked worn and re-read many times, bookmarks were sticking out of its pages like motley stripes. The girl pulled it to her. The title on the cover read: "The history of Silent Hill." Frisk carefully opened the book on the first bookmark.

 _"The first Native American tribes that settled this land, called it “The Place of the Silent Spirits". According to their beliefs, it was the only place where people could communicate with the spirits inhabiting various elements of nature - water, earth, air, forest. However, legends about unusual sacred ceremonies deserve special interest. According to them, a person could summon spirits of deceased relatives in order to ask them for advice or protection. Historians explain these legends by the fact that a plant called White Claudia_ _was used in rituals._ _This flower grows near water, in certain areas of Silent Hill, and is considered magical in the local religion. The seeds of this plant contain psychotropic substances and used for manufacture of narcotics. When ingested they cause severe dizziness, clouding of consciousness, visual and auditory hallucinations. Hallucinogenic effect was the key"._

The next page showed a plant with oblong, juicy leaves and white flowers. Well, this short article explains why there are so many ghost stories in Silent Hill. Yet, it doesn’t explain the girl who froze in the air and disappeared in the fog. Unable to find the answer, Frisk just shook her head and tried to forget all of it. She was just seeing things. Ghosts don’t exist. She’s twelve already, she’s not a little girl to believe in such things.

Frisk began to leaf through the book with a new interest. All the bookmarks Chara had left in it marked the pages where, in one way or another, was told about the history of local religion. When she reached the middle of the book, the girl gasped - some postcard fell out of the pages and disappeared under the table. However, lifting it, Frisk realized it was a Tarot card, left there for some reason. It looked very much alike the one Frisk had in her backpack; only this one depicted not the dancing Fool, but The Devil sitting on a throne surrounded by demons. After examining the card, Frisk looked at the book again, at the pages from which it fell.

On one of them was a photo of a painting — a tall, red-haired woman in a red dress, with people surrounding her and bending in front of her. On the other - a text description to it:

_“The God of the Sun is considered the central deity of this religion. Despite its asexual essence, the God is usually depicted as a woman, in contrast to the deities of Abrahamic religions. She is also known as the Creator of Paradise, the Holy Mother, the Lord of the Serpents and Reeds. Her followers describe her as a strict guide who leads them to purification of sins through the trials of faith and body. The main doctrines of the cult are built on worshiping God, serving Order and opposing Chaos. The followers of the Order see the goal of their faith in the return of eternal Paradise, once destroyed by human hands”._

Frisk looked up from reading and turned the card in her fingers with interest. Does this have to mean something? Apparently, the cards were from the same deck, but the girl couldn’t understand what could link them. A little thought, she decided to hide the Devil card in her backpack, hoping that Chara wouldn’t be very upset if she lost it.

As if hearing her, the woman called Frisk from the kitchen and asked to wash her hands before eating. The girl didn’t argue and obediently went to the bathroom. It turned out to be tiny and hid a little surprise inside. The Metatron Seal was drawn on the mirror with a red permanent marker; the same sign with a double ring and a triangle in it. Frisk started to get a headache from one glance at it. The girl looked away from the mirror and began to wash her hands.

Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised. Chara herself said that this symbol is painted on the walls to protect against evil forces. But why a bathroom mirror? A strange place for magical seals. Or, on the contrary, it’s suitable. The mirrors are always associated with all sorts of rituals, right?

She returned to the living room to wait for Chara. In the end, it’s the only way she could repay this woman - with politeness and obedience. She hoped that these qualities would help her win the goodwill of her adoptive parents... but this hasn’t happened so far. Their orphanage doesn’t have many visitors. It’s understandable - who in general needs mute and deaf-mute children?

Smiling Chara returned with a tray of a pair of cups, plates and creamer. She almost beamed with happiness, although Frisk couldn’t say what could make her so happy.

“Please, help yourself. I haven't had guests for so long.”

There was something to be treated with - Chara brought the remains of pie and cookies, which Frisk seized with appetite. She didn’t notice how hungry she was from the road. In the meantime, Chara continued to chatter cheerfully, simply enjoying the fact she had a silent listener. Frisk was nodding in response and quietly devastating a cup of beautiful black tea with cream. The tea was strong and sweet, and its tart smell overpowered everything else.

“You have no idea how happy I am that you came”, Chara took a sip from her cup and gave a wide smile to the guest. “We waited so long for this.”

Frisk turned around and immediately regretted it. Her head ringed; the room wavered before her eyes. She reached to forehead to brush away the drops of sweat, but her hand didn’t obey and seemed to fill with lead.

“You should be smiling too,” Chara gently clasped the girl’s palm. “You're going to be free.”

Frisk nodded uncertainly in response, smiled and collapsed into her lap, unconscious.

                                                               ***

_Someone is crying in the toilet stall._

_The place seems unfamiliar. Frightening. A tiny room with walls yellowed by dampness, littered floor, and dirty sinks covered with mold and vomit. You knock on the door with your small fist, and it gives a dull rattle. Intermittent crying intensifies._

_You want to say something, something encouraging, sweet, hopeful, but no sound comes out of your mouth, only air._

_“Please, leave!” sobs were replaced by a thin girlish voice_ _for a moment. “You can’t help. You make yourself worse! Just… go away.”_

_The words were drowned in weak, broken sobs._

_Blood goes through the walls. It gathers in rivulets on the floor, flows through the cracks and seams between the tiles. Plaster is crumbling, exposing the rusty iron frame, and behind it is nothing but darkness. Blood corrodes the tile like acid, turning the floor into a rusty lattice._

_You knock on the stall door again and you want to scream, - but let out only a frightened breath from the throat._

_“You know, my mother forbade you to even come close to me! If she finds out we were talking again, she will punish you. I don’t want you to...”_

_This time the voice is drowned by long, harsh sound of the school bell. It hit you_ _like a stone on the head, stunned you, filled your ears. You drop to the floor_ _from pain, hold your ears with hands, but this doesn’t help much. The world begins to creep away before your eyes, and the stall door opens with a creak._

_No one is inside._

_Heavy, as if filled with lead, your head is ringing, and you can’t get back to your feet. The school bell still rings_ _in the distance; it calls you, until the world finally plunges into darkness._

                                                                 ***

This is not a school bell. Somewhere in the distance, the sirens were howling deafeningly.

At first Frisk thinks all of this is still a dream. It's dark around here, and reality slowly eludes her, spots are dancing before her eyes. She wants to get up, but her body feels like a plastic mannequin, ossified and motionless. Someone's hands gently clasped her waist and held her on weight.

Through the siren, she hears other sounds, very close to her, heavy breathing and footsteps. Someone straightens her immobile body on shoulders with effort. It’s cold. Thin striped T-shirt doesn’t help, she was doused to the bone. She shouldn’t take off the jacket.

Oh yeah, she came to Silent Hill. She’s still in the town, but... it was noon. How it become dark so quickly? What happened?

Someone swears in the dark, and Frisk recognizes the voice of Chara. The woman stops to throw a small body on the other shoulder. The girl wants to call her with a cry, make a sound, and somehow give Chara to understand that she woke up. Even such a simple action seems like an impossible effort. She just powerlessly releases air from her lungs.

In the end, she can't even tell where reality ends and the next nightmare begin.

                                                                                 ***

_Today you don’t want to go back to your room._

_With the onset of darkness, the forest becomes a creepy place. It surrounds the site like a solid wall, as if guarding this little corner of sorrow, distanced from civilization. Everyone are going away for dinner, leaving you alone._

_Lanterns barely illuminate the empty playground. Taking advantage of the moment, you escape through the gate, not locked yet . You’re afraid to walk through the forest._

_But you’re even more afraid of going back to your room._

_It always gets dark quickly. When first twilight falls on the crowns of the trees, the branches cut off the path to the last rays of sun. Then lanterns are lightened. They don't help much. Their glass is covered with rusty dirt that lets through a weak dim light._

_The forest is full of sounds. A wild dog growls at you from the trees, but quickly runs away. This is not a dog, you say to yourself. You love dogs. What haunts you is a skinned, scrawny body that drops live worms from a half-decayed head. A howl_ _is heard somewhere in the distance. It’s divided in two, turned into a dull roar, and then was replaced by barking and the sound of bodies rolling on the ground._

_A branch breaks behind you, even though you just walked past it. You turn around, and, of course, there’s no one there. It didn’t make you feel better. Behind you is a chain of bloody footprints that stopped near your right foot. You’re speeding up to quickly hide from the fears that haunt you on the heels. But they always turn out to be faster._

_In the end, the trail leads to a dead end. The iron gates are tightly closed, and the rusty lattice safely protects you from the rest of the world. You find your shelter under a huge boulder - Nakeehona, as it called. You feel calmer here. Nobody’s here except your curled body and crickets. Soon you start falling asleep from fatigue._

_You were pulled out from the slumber - literally. Someone grabs your hair and jerks you to your feet. You scream in pain and can’t hold back tears. She found you._

_She yells at you. Her nasty, old voice cuts ears, you want to close them with your fingers, but you’re afraid. You’re afraid to even raise your gaze and look her in the face. You keep crying_ _like a little helpless coward, with your eyes fixed on the ground._

_Your face turned red, you want to run away from this woman and her followers, or at least you want to tell her something. To apologize in the hope that she will soften your punishment. To scream that she’s an evil, ugly witch and you hate her. But nothing comes out of your throat except choked sobs._

_She grabbed your wrist, rudely pulled you toward her and hissed like a poisonous viper:_

_“Apparently, that time in the water prison didn’t teach you anything. I warn you for the last time - stay away from my daughter. Don't touch her, don't come near her and don't even dare talk to her, otherwise...”_

_Her wrinkled hands squeeze your wrist to pain. You fall silent_ _in horror._

_“... otherwise it will be the last time you ever talked to anyone!”_

_She pushes you away so hard you hit your back against a boulder. Then she leaves. Someone grabs you, almost twisting your arm, and drags back to the place you wanted to escape so much._

_***_

Someone drags her. Someone sings in a deep, ragged voice in the distance. Noise and cold awoke her, forsed her toto mo. She wants to cover herself; it’s so cold she can get sick without clothes. A belated thought comes to a sleepy head - and where are all her clothes?

Someone lifts her, gently puts the immobilized body on a stone. It’s rough and as cold as a tile, so Frisk tries to get up of it. The muscles seem to be made of cotton, because none of them moves, no matter how she tries. With difficulty, she still manages to turn her head and open her eyes.

Colors and lights blend into a mess of bright spots that took shapes of blurred silhouettes shortly after. Semi-dark room with a high ceiling, marble columns, small lights of candles floating in the golden candlesticks. A statue leaned over her - a beautiful woman with outstretched arms, who seemed to asking to approach them, the marble goddess and the girl lying at her feet. Someone's dark silhouette walks around, and the other, somewhere on behind, continues to sing. The words sound unfamiliar.

“You... you not s-supposed to... to wake up so soon,” a trembling voice came beside her.

It seems as if she had died and lay on the table, surrounded by candles. Uncertainly, she raised her numbed hand and touched the silhouette. It sighed, opened it’s eyes, took the girl’s hand, lowered it beside her, and moved away from the table. Frisk tried to get up again, or at least turn her head to look, - but the silhouette had already disappeared somewhere in the spreading darkness.

Slowly, very reluctantly, the vision cleared, and sensitivity started to return to the body. The girl could see the silhouettes of two more statues next to the goddess, as if they were watching Frisk from the dark. The table was a carved stone altar with candles gently placed around it. On one side of it were statues, on the other - rows of old wooden benches, now empty. Finally, Frisk understood where she was. This is a church.

She tried to move, but her arms and legs were sore and weak. She wanted to scream, but her tongue fluttered in vain. Then, before she managed to think of something, the singing resumed again. A throaty, male bass echoed in the empty hall, hit the ears. It was resonating with a weaker female voice that seemed hesitant and frightened. Frisk began to feel dizzy from the noise… and she knew she had already heard this monstrous prayer in an unknown language.

The harsh sound of impact made the girl shudder with her whole body. A female voice broke off, but continued to sing again. There was another hit, then another and another. The woman's voice turned into a convulsive crying, but she kept chanting verse by verse, even when she was still beaten.

Screams and words mingled in a long cacophony of sounds, and Frisk felt this loud disharmony splitting her head from the inside. Her eyes clouded over, and her mind eluded her again. Someone continued to howl painfully, barely uttering the words of the prayer...

                                                                         ***

_…It's you._

_You cannot read, you cannot utter a word, but you cannot stay silent. Your throat is burning, you are terribly thirsty, but you are drawing air into your lungs again and howl as deep and loud as you can. Your voice is mixed with the dozen others, and your prayer fills the church with a loud echo._

_It is Sunday, and today you have been gathered here to worship God. You have been taught this all week, and now you have to do it well. Because otherwise you all will be left without dinner. And if someone will be especially bad, they will be taken to the round chamber. No one wants to go there, and you are no exception._

_Your legs are sore_ _from long standing in one place, but you don’t dare to move. The vicar is watching you, standing at the altar, and you are standing directly opposite him. Your eyes are darting around the room. You are afraid of him as much as of her and everyone else._

_A sharp pain pierces your back, and you almost get distracted from the verse. Tears are coming to your eyes, but you continue to sing the memorized motive. One of the attendants passes by, holding a whip, and measures you with a look. You don’t dare to turn and look at him in response. Why did he hit you? Who cares. Maybe you were singing badly. Maybe you were standing with your back twisted. Or maybe just because he felt like it. It's for prevention, as they said._

_You want to cry, not sing. Instead, you take a deep breath and howl from your own pain, hoping that God will really hear you._

                                                                                     ***

When Frisk opens her eyes, she cannot say what exactly was a nightmare from what she saw.

“Now go. You have to do it,” the male bass rattles. “It is your merit, and She favors you.”

The goddess cries with tears of blood. They run down her marble-white face like scarlet rills and fall onto the girl's stomach. The blood flows along the walls, along the columns, along the altar, pulses, flows down into the lattice floor. The wooden benches have grown old, and it seems about to fall apart before her eyes. The darkness thickened, and the candles faded. They were new, and now they are almost completely melted.

“Prove your loyalty to Her. Show how much you love Her, Chara. The ritual would not have happened without you. Let this be your last gift for Her.”

The nightmare she saw looked much more real than the real world... or maybe it was the real world, and everything that happens here is just a new nightmare.

Therefore, when Chara comes to the altar with a dagger in her hand, she can only hope for a sudden awakening that will free her from this terrible dream.

“Let us begin. Do not make Her wait.”

Chara nods, her face is completely white, marble, like of a statue, and empty. Eyes are wide open, not blinking, looking on a girl and, at the same time, somewhere very far away. And then she laughs.

Someone begins to howl the loud throat song again. Chara laughs and laughs, tears running down her dead face. Figures gather out of the darkness, their faces are barely discernible under the black, burnt flesh, and the stench fills the lungs.

Frisk struggles to get up again and again, tries to lift her clumsy, plastic dummy body from the altar, but it didn’t budge. Fire, adrenaline and horror throbbed in her veins. In desperation, the girl called for help. Not a word came from her throat, only a faint sob, that sank in a loud prayer.

The figures are surrounding the altar and singing in chorus, as Chara slowly lifts the ceremonial dagger. Her hands are trembling, but voice is devoid of any emotion.

“I give this soul to you, Lord! Release her from the Sins of flesh and embrace her! Send your blessing upon us and break the curse that weighs on us!”

She paused for a moment, and the voices fell silent with her. Frisk sobbed again, reached for Chara’s garment with difficulty and squeezed it. The woman didn’t move, her gaze looked in nowhere. She shouted up:

“I dedicate this death to you, Alessa!”

_... Alessa?_

... and forcefully lowered the dagger, plunging it right into the solar plexus of the victim.

No pain up to this point could compare with this. As if someone had gathered all her nerves into a ball and passed a charge of electric current through it. The pain struck the head with a dazzling, deafening flash that filled the whole body and tore it apart. Unable to pump blood and oxygen, the heart was beating in vain - and finally stopped.

 

Then she woke up.

The light flooded her, the air filled the lungs, and Frisk almost fell, clutching at the sink in the last moment. She breathed deeply, as if choking; the room was spinning before her eyes. Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead because of sweat and closed the view. The white noise in the ears began to subside; only the head was plump from the pain, unable to embrace and comprehend everything that had happened.

Calming down a bit, Frisk looked around. Her gaze was fixed on a bright scarlet seal, painted on the mirror with a permanent marker.

Dazed and confused, she touched her face again, brushed off the cold sweat, scratched the bandage on her nose - no, it was still her, real and alive. She even touched her solar plexus to make sure of it. Of course, there weren’t any wounds. And there was no altar, no eerie underground church, and everything that happened there was probably another weird dream.

... And all this time she was just standing here? Something doesn’t add up. She couldn’t just fall asleep while standing at the sink in someone else's bathroom. And all of this can’t be real. Chara is for sure...

Chara! Something happened at the moment she lost consciousness... Wait, but this moment hasn’t happened yet! She should return to the living room and wait for Chara to come and only then... Will all of this happen? Maybe it was a dream, but maybe a vision of the future?

Frisk didn’t fully understand what was going on, she knew only one thing - she must leave. Immediately. It's better to be rude than dead.

She didn’t know what to think about the servant of the Order. Who is she? Frisk slipped out of the bathroom on tiptoe, picked up her backpack, put on her shoes and jacket. If earlier the girl was afraid that Chara would be upset, now - that she would return and find her guest in the corridor, halfway to escape. Frisk didn’t know whether to trust strange visions, but she wasn’t going to check on herself.

She slowly pulled the knob, but the door didn’t budge. Nervously, Frisk looked around, searching for the key with her eyes - and almost jumped out of her shoes, hearing a voice behind her:

 “Leaving so soon?”

She spun around. Chara stood in the living room, arms crossed, and looked at Frisk with a strange expression on her face — either attentive or irritated. The girl answered the landlady with a nervous smile and pointed at the door, hinting that she had to leave.

 “Hmm... are you sure?” It's rude to come for a visit and immediately run away.”

Frisk encircled her heart with her fist in a sign for apology, then pointed at the door again. Chara bowed her head and closed eyes, as if lost in thought, and ignoring the guest for a moment. Then the woman turned back to Frisk - and smiled widely, almost insanely. All the blush disappeared from the girl’s face as Chara softly hissed through her teeth:

_“You know what's going on here, don't you?”_


	3. Dead End

As long as Frisk remembered herself, she was always the quiet one. The polite and obedient one, not bothering anyone with her miserable desires. The one with diligent behavior, not engaging in fights and quarrels, always on her mind, always in her world - all educators adore children like these and sometimes give them a little more love and attention than to the rest of the crowd. Therefore, Frisk was well-behaved and avoided any conflicts.

And therefore, she had no idea what to do in a dangerous situation.

“I anticipated this, although I couldn’t believe it will happen,” Chara continued to smile, her voice sounded nervous and intermittent. “She gave me that power... but I knew that it couldn’t last forever.”

The woman stepped forward, and Frisk, frozen in bewilderment, shuddered, pounced on the door handle. As expected it didn’t budge. In a growing panic Frisk turned around, looking for anything that could help. Something she could use to protect herself with or where she could escape and hide.

“Hush, child. You don’t need to be afraid of me at all.” Chara almost purred these words, but the wide, glued smile on her face made their truthfulness doubtful. “I don't want to hurt you.”

In response, Frisk spread her palm to the side, telling the woman to stay away. Chara stopped for a second, but just to get a hidden dagger from her sleeve. She raised it, and the girl froze in place.

Desperately, Frisk tried to remember what she was taught at school. What to do when encountering a dangerous stranger. Calling the police is definitely not an option. Screaming is not a good idea either, especially when an armed woman is standing nearby, ready to shut you up at any moment. Damn, even if she screamed, nothing would’ve changed! She can’t call for help - and a scream can be attributed to accident or a childish trick. Besides... there’s no guarantee someone will hear her at all.

The woman turned her palm with the dagger so the uneven blade was at victim’s eye level. Now, in normal lighting, Frisk could properly examine the ritual dagger. The leaf-shaped blade with a blood-groove across was made of a faded brown metal either copper or bronze. Judging by the remaining dark stains, it’s not the first time it has threatened to take someone's life. One sight of a blade terrified the girl to no end. The woman took a step ahead, and Frisk’s nerves couldn’t stand it. She rushed forward in panic.

She couldn’t escape far. Chara's hand grabbed her by the hood of her jacket and roughly jerked it, pulled Frisk to her. The girl tried to struggle but stopped abruptly. A cold, rough touch burned the skin on her neck.

“Don't resist,” Chara whispered softly in her ear, “and be quiet. We don’t want any... accident to happen, do we?”

Looking away from the dagger’s handle, the girl nodded carefully.

“Good girl,” Chara lowered her armed hand, much to Frisk’s relief. “Now let's go.”

Still holding her shoulder, the woman led her into the living room. The girl squeezed the strap of her backpack so hard her fingers turned white. Again, as if repeating a lost memory, Chara ordered her to sit down at the table then began to make tea. The woman herself stood on the other side, watching Frisk closely. The girl was afraid to even move.

Chara filled one cup, took a knife in her teeth (not daring to put it on the table) and raised the hem of her robe. Under it were quite casual clothes - jeans and T-shirt, the edge of which barely peeked and covered a chubby pocket. Chara pulled from it a small bottle with white liquid inside. After opening it she measured out a teaspoon and poured liquid into the tea. The liquid was as thick as cream, it smelled of flowers and left a greasy slick on the water surface.

She remembered the article of White Claudia for some reason.

When finished, Chara hid the bottle and handed this cup to the girl. She uncertainly looked at the liquid, then at the woman. Holding the dagger in her hands, Chara explained:

“It's just a flower balm. Don’t worry, you’ll just fall asleep... and you won’t feel anything.”

Frisk wasn’t sure if this liquid is safe to drink; however, under Chara’s gaze she raised her cup. It burned her palms with warmth. The girl was never good at planning so she did the first thing that came to her mind.

She splashed the hot liquid into Chara's face.

It missed a little, but the result was worth it. The woman screamed, stepped back and clutched her face; the dagger fell under the table with a clank. Losing no time, the girl dashed away, run into the corridor and locked herself in the only room at its end. It was Chara's bedroom. Frisk fell back against the door. Her trembling knees bent and she nearly fell.

An instant later, the door shuddered from impact.

“Damn you!” Another hit. Chara hissed, still wiping the rest of the tea from her face. Then she continued in a more measured tone: “I know you’re trapped here. You have nowhere to run. Open the door and I won’t hurt you.” She hesitated, then added: “I swear to God.”

But Frisk had no reason to believe her vows. Her gaze frantically darted around the room in attempt to cling to anything. Double bed neatly laid out, bedside tables, a bookshelf, a wardrobe, white curtains on the balcony windows. Cleanliness and nothing excessive. The girl rushed to the balcony door.

She was greeted by usual damp coolness and the gray sullen look of empty streets behind a metal fence. It’s a second floor, jumping was scary, but listening to Chara breaking out the door lock with her dagger was even scarier.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to risk it; a fire escape ladder was hung close by. Throwing a backpack on her shoulders, Frisk climbed over the grate to the next balcony and onto the railing, then stepped on the rusty staircase. It creaked uncertainly, but the girl didn’t pay attention to it and quickly went down. The thunder of the open door told her that her time was running out.

The staircase ended about three yards above the ground, the girl jumped down. She tried to land on her feet, but fell on her backpack that took a hit. Turning over, Frisk got to her feet and looked up, just to see Chara, who run out onto the balcony. Her usually pale face was red with rage. Cursing, she turned and disappeared in the apartment again.

Taking a deep breath, Frisk hurried to the metal gate, rushed out into the street and run wherever her feet took her. Buildings sprang from the fog, and the girl darted around the corners to confuse her pursuer. She sped along a narrow alley, past the garbage cans, jumped into the gate, ignoring the “Beware of the dog!” sign, passed through the yard. Another gate, a thin thread of alley crammed between two tall brick buildings.

It seems like an eternity has passed before she stopped.

The alley, narrow, littered and quiet, didn’t seem like a safe place. But there was nobody around and she has no strength to run further. Frisk threw her backpack on the ground and sat on it, legs stretched out. The air, damp and cold, scratched her throat, but the girl eagerly swallowed it and couldn’t catch her breath. She never had to run so fast and far, but she was proud of herself. And she was glad for not skipping PE lessons, knowing that training of her puny body would pay off someday.

Taking a breath, she brushed sweat-sticky hair from her forehead and heeded nervously. Silent Hill remained as silent as before. She got up and continued on her way. The sooner she gets out of here, the better.

The alley - a tiny crevice between the mountains of high-rise buildings – was running forward. It led into dead ends, full with garbage cans, covered with a rusty lattice fence. Drainpipes curled along the walls, intertwined like tangles of rusty snakes. Water was dripping somewhere. The place smelled of old rotting rubbish.

At least now she had time to think about her own stupidity.

Mrs. Gordon often warned that with her childish naivety Frisk would get in trouble. And although the girl desperately tried to act like an adult, all her instincts were turning off before a craving for love. She kicked the empty beer can with irritation, and it crashed into a trash can with a deafening crash. And she knew this. It has happened before. And still, as soon as Chara showed a little respect for her existence, that’s it, she turned into a naive little fool. She believed that someone could actually show kindness to her, not expecting anything in return, how ridiculous it was. Nobody needed her from birth, so why Chara would be an exception? Why would anyone even show warm feelings for such a nobody like her?  Well, only if they didn’t want to sacrifice her to pagan gods or something like that.

Angry tears pinched in her eyes, Frisk frowned and quickly brushed them off. She lived with this all her life. What’s the point of crying? She had to get over it already. No one needs her and she doesn’t need anyone. She’ll find a way to get out of this town, call the police and expose the cultists and their dirty deeds. They will be imprisoned, and she will become a heroine. Then Mrs. Gordon won’t be making a fool out of her in front of the others.

Still angry at herself for her naiveté, Frisk was lost in thoughts and didn’t notice how quickly it was getting dark. She woke up from a blinding frustration when she tripped over something invisible in the dark. Just now she noticed a piece of gray sky disappearing into the twilight darkness and deep shadows covering the alley. There was no end in sight, the alley was leading somewhere in depth, like a cave.

The girl bewilderedly looked around. Was she so concentrated that fell out of reality for several hours? Or is it late already so it got dark so fast? But why does the path seem so long? The town is small, she had to get to the other side of the street by now.

Some devilry was happening in this place, and she knew the drug was not the reason to it.

For a moment she wanted to turn around and go back, but a rational thought interrupted her fear. Darkness is just an illusory danger, but Chara was quite a real threat. There’s no way in hell she wanted to intersect with that cultist.

Rummaging in her backpack, she pulled out a flashlight stolen from the storeroom - another crime on her conscience. A click, and a bright yellow circle illuminated her narrow path. Shoving the flashlight into the breast pocket of her jacket, Frisk continued to go forward, now slower and more carefully. The black sky above her growled and small drops of rain pounded on the pipes.

It’s strange, but the cold air was getting hotter and stale, as if she wasn’t stuck on the street, but in a shut, unventilated room. Behind the next turn was a corner littered with big garbage bags. They emanated a sickeningly sweet smell of rot that attracted clouds of insects. Half-dried crimson puddles flowed under this dump, flies swarming around them.

Frisk clasped her nose with her fingers and turned away. Once she saw such filth when one of the cooks threw bags of rotten meat in a garbage container. The stench from it went all over the playground, and Mr. Ranaldo, the head of the staff, had to call the sanitary service to clean all this mess. The girl hurried forward, holding back her vomit.

She was attracted by the light at the end of the alley, and Frisk rushed to it with newborn eagerness. Rain was growing, thundering along the roofs, running down the walls in drips. The orange light grew, and the girl flew at it like a moth. No luck again, it wasn’t a street lamp as she hoped, but another garbage can. Its contents were burning in hot flames not disturbed by any rain. The fire heavily fumed, covering the walls and fence in soot. The smoke disgustingly smelled of a chemical like gasoline mixed with the bitter odor of burnt meat.

Now in addition to a lump of vomit, fear stuck down her throat. All these frighteningly abnormal things, strangely stuffed in one place, gave the impression of some absurd nightmare. Like a narcotic delusion, suddenly revived at the behest of dark mind.

Exhaling frantically, the girl turned away and wanted to move on, but stopped abruptly. The dancing shadows from the flames scattered under the flashlight - and a human silhouette became clearly visible on the wall.

Frisk stepped aside, turned off the flashlight, but the darkened vision was in no hurry to move. After waiting a bit, listening to the hiss of flame and the roar of rain, the girl stepped forward. Her stomach twisted into a ball of ice, her legs filled with lead. She turned and was finally able to see the human around the corner.

She had to bite her palm not to scream out loud.

A woman was hung on the fence - more precisely, the little that was left of her. She was hanging on a piece of barbed wire around her neck and looking at Frisk with empty eye sockets. Street animals gnawed her hard, exposing her hands and chest to the bones, the lower half of the body was absent. The remains of a face, hair and red blouse were the only things distinguishing it was a woman.

Frisk walked away and crawled along the wall to the ground. Taking her hand away, she frantically swallowed the air, but there wasn’t enough. Reality floated before her eyes, blood pounding in head like an alarm. The girl closed her eyes, hoping that this terrifying sight would disappear by itself.

She couldn’t calm down right away. Suppressing her panic and nausea, Frisk rose to her bent, trembling knees. The body didn’t disappear, but the girl gathered courage to come closer.

Under the corpse the red high heel shoes were left. Scraps of red cloth, torn diary pages and gnawed bones - what was left of the woman’s legs, - were scattered across the ground. Frisk gathered some wet papers. The letters on them were ruined by water.

_“... e of them... they don’t recognize me anymore. Yesterday, Katie atta... me with a sca... el. She screeched and bit like wild ani... until we locked her in the female ward. I was luck... if you don’t move and stay silent, they won’t notice... The rest... e still holding on but it’s not... Soon they will all go cra... like me. Like everyone in this to..."_

_“... ticed the first signs... knew I would become one... too. I am doomed. We are all doomed.”_

_“... tie broke free and killed M... and then gobbled up her corpse. No one paid atten..."_

_“... blood flows from all the faucets in the toilet... I’m thirsty. I want to gobble up Kat... me too…”_

_“... need drug. Fog in the eyes. Hunger kills me... better me than...”_

The diary cover lay nearby, but there’re no other pages. Glancing at the stained pages once more, Frisk put them in a pile next to the red shoes.

All this can’t be true. All this... is nothing more than a monstrous foggy nightmare. One of those that hunts her every night.

Claws scraped at the stone nearby, barking rumbled, changing to an excited growl. The shadows danced again in the flames, taking the form of a huge animal muzzle.

...she just needs to wake up.

Slowly, step by step, back out. The creature grows in size; its shadow occupies the entire canvas of the rusty lattice. Gently slide along the wall, hiding in the dark. Step, another step. A hand stumbles on something sharp. Ahead lays a blockage of construction debris.

The creature snarled briefly and came out under the uneven light of the flame.

Obviously, that’s why she shouldn’t have ignored the “Beware of the dog!” sign. The monster actually looked like a dog - but huge, about an adult human size. Overgrown with dirty gray fur, it moved, hunching over, on two legs. Sometimes the creature was bending to the ground, sucking air in nostrils and growling, showing rows of jagged yellow fangs. The remains of its clothes still hung on the exhausted skeleton of its body. Like a werewolf from eerie legends that went on hunt in the night.

The beast turned its head and stared at Frisk frozen against the wall. The long fur at the head covered its eyes as if it never had them. The girl stopped breathing for a moment; her pounding heart seemed to freeze too as not to attract attention with its beat. The monster examined the alley, leaned over and began to sniff the bones lying on the ground.

 _“If you don’t move and stay silent, they won’t notice”..._ did the dead woman write about this? Did she see the same monsters before her death? Or, - which is much more likely - all this is someone’s terrible dream, because such creatures don’t exist. They can’t exist.

The monster gnawed at the dry bones and irritably scattered them, uninterested. It sneezed noisily and sniffed something in the air. The shabby muzzle turned back to the girl. Probably smelling her, the monster got up and began to approach, slowly and inevitably, covering the entire alleyway, cutting off the path to escape.

Barely holding back a scream, Frisk looked around. She can’t get through the blockage, pieces of concrete, wood, armature and other construction debris didn’t look much like weapon. The girl held out her hand and searched for the object she cut her palm with - a plank with nails on its end. Clutching at it desperately, Frisk began to carefully pull it out of the pile.

The monster growled, attracted by the noise. It lifted its head, gnawed ears stood upright, short tail wagged. Ignoring the splinters in her fingers, Frisk frantically yanked the plank until it yielded. She grabbed the weapon with both hands, and the monster roared. It shook, drops of water scattered from wet fur. Crouching on four legs, the beast rushed forward.

When the scruffy muzzle appeared close, Frisk struck with all her might. The stick almost jumped out of trembling hands from her jerk, the monster screeched and recoiled. Sticking nails tore his nose.

Her triumph was short-lived. With a furious roar the beast jumped right at her. Screaming, Frisk struck blindly. The plank landed on its back, a clawed paw flew past her shoulder and left nicks on the wall. Forgetting everything, the girl frantically waved her weapon, bringing it down on the mutilated body again and again.

Howling desperately and angrily, the monster recoiled like a beaten dog. It backed up on four legs, looked at the girl with a snarl, but wasn’t about to run away. Saliva dripped from its mouth, the beast clacked its jaws and circled next to the dangerous prey. Frisk clutched her stick and watched the enemy movements, feeling every nerve in her body tremble with tension.

Somewhere in the night, a siren howled behind the sound of rain.

Growling, the beast made the last desperate jump. This time, more confidently, the girl hit it on the top of its head with all her strength. The monster flew into her by inertia and knocked her on rough concrete slabs. With a single gasp the girl fell on the wet asphalt, reality blurring before her eyes. The monster howled with pain and, tail between legs, backed away. Its skull cracked like a nut, dark blood oozing from the wound. With the last hopeless cry, the monster turned and knocked down a barrel of burning garbage. The sooty metal tank turned around, the fire spread on the wool. The beast sped away with a howl. Remains of garbage, ashes and burnt bones were smoldering on the ground.

Soot and rust, drops of blood and rain mixed before her eyes into a single picture of hellfire.

                                                                                           ***

The cold washcloth kissed her forehead and cheeks over and over again. Something mockingly grunted over her ear, jumped in puddles, pulled her hair playfully. With a groan Frisk opened her eyes. A white lump joyfully hopped around, barking. Reality blurred like soggy watercolors, blood throbbing in her ears. Hardly, the girl rose to her arms, then sat awkwardly, leaning against the wall. A white lump encouraged her by yapping.

Of course it was just a dream. She just got tired and didn’t notice how she fell asleep in this dark damp alley.

The echoes of a terrible nightmare still played in her head vividly. But vision cleared, reality appeared around, and illusions receded away. The same gray alley. Dead end littered with garbage bags. Rusty gate. Old lattice fence. Fog and mud, quiet town reflected in long puddles.

Only one detail stood out. A four-legged ball of fur that danced around her. Swiss spitz, well-groomed and probably domestic, but without a collar. The dog excitedly waved its short tail, stuck its tongue out and panted, waiting for Frisk to pat it on the head. It happily barked and licked the girl's palms, listening to her weak laugh.

Recovered, Frisk stood on her feet. The body was aching with weakness, cuts and bruises still red on her hands, bruises swelled on the knees. The chin and cheeks were skinned, blood oozing from the nose again. And the worst thing is that her clothes were damp and dirty. Mr. Ranaldo will be so mad.

Screw this town, she has done enough.

Just in case, she walked around to confirm her rightness. Of course, there was no trace of rotting bags or a hanging body, and no blockage - in its place was an ordinary gate to the other side of the street. Nearby, on the pavement, was a lonely plank with nails, probably fallen off the garbage. Thinking a little, Frisk picked it up and stepped out of the damned alley. White spitz galloped after her.

The plank is not really serious, but still a weapon. And Frisk was glad for the fragile sense of safety it gave to her.

Apparently, she didn’t sleep too long, because Silent Hill hasn’t changed at all during this time. The same gray haze, empty streets, shabby houses. The dog was spinning underfoot, sniffing thoughtfully. Then it rushed into thick fog with a bark. Not wanting to lose her single companion, Frisk ran after it.

A crossroad grew out of the haze, and the girl stopped at traffic sign. Lindsey Street, Sanders Street... nothing familiar. Only one arrow caught her attention - Wiltse Road. The road Chara recalled. The road she used to came here!

Relief and joy bowled upon her in a wave, and Frisk rushed forward at all speed. The mysterious spitz disappeared as quickly as it appeared, but she has no time to look for it. The most important thing now is to get out of the damned place and never, never ever come back here!

Whatever happened in this town in the past... she doesn’t want to know anymore.

Therefore, carelessly rushing forward, she barely managed to slow down when a chasm appeared ahead.

Almost falling, she stopped at very edge of the asphalt pavement that had once been a highway. Unsteadily she stepped back, then rubbed her eyes, pinched herself. But no, the view in front of her didn’t disappear, as she had hoped.

The road she came here was gone. As if some kind of explosion or earthquake occurred during that short moment of her sleep, bringing down the serpentine road into the river affluent of Lake Toluca. Its other end wasn’t even visible behind the fog. Only a broken-off slab and a car standing alone on its edge that was about to sink into the abyss below.

Her hope burst like a pierced balloon, leaving only a fear of unknown behind.

Turning away from the destroyed road, the girl faced the quiet streets. It feels like Silent Hill didn't want to let her go. As if the town itself was calling her in its depths, beckoning her with its secrets, scaring her with its nightmares. Before all this, Frisk would call herself a fool for such stupid thoughts... but being there and now, she has no idea what to believe and where her familiar reality ended.

One way or another, she’ll have to look for another way out. There must be other road to leave the town, and she’ll certainly find it.

She didn’t have time to think about a better plan - the footsteps came from afar. Quiet, but fast, perfectly audible in perfect silence, they were approaching here. A tall dark silhouette began to appear in the fog.

Frisk darted behind an abandoned car, and the silhouette took on a familiar shape.

Chara stopped at the edge of the crevice and grunted thoughtfully. The hem of her robe was raised and tied with a belt - not to interrupt her while running. In hand she held a familiar dagger. After standing on the edge a little, the woman turned around and headed back in town. She looked around, searching for someone, gaze piercingly sharp. Then she disappeared into the fog, as swiftly as she appeared.

Frisk swallowed frantically, pulling a plank close to her. In life, nothing can be so simple.


	4. Hear Nothing

Shuffling footsteps echoed painfully loudly in ringing silence. Heeding, nervously catching every extraneous sound, the girl wandered through the empty town streets. With longing, she recalled the much more lively and safe Brahms and hoped that she still could come back alive.

  
At first she tried to look into shops and cafes and through the windows of houses to call for help, but she soon abandoned this venture. Frisk knew that not many people lived in Silent Hill, but now it seemed that the town was completely empty. The only person she met here was Chara - and asking her for help is certainly not a good idea. The girl would’ve wandered in the streets like a restless ghost, if the familiar white dog hadn’t jumped out of the fog. Spitz yapped, as if asking where she went, then circled around and rushed forward again. Seeing no other options Frisk ran after it.

  
The dog jumped around like a small cloud, sniffed bushes and hydrants, lead her somewhere. “Somewhere” turned out to be a small van that stood alone at the intersection of two streets. The door was open and the dog climbed in unhindered. After a small hesitation, Frisk went up behind it, knocking on the door. As expected, no one was in the motor house.

  
Spitz took a trip around the small van, examined the contents of the empty bowl, then jumped onto the sofa and stretched out on it. The girl twisted his bowl with the inscription "Toby" and grunted knowingly. It seems that past owners abandoned Toby, just like her parents did. Hopefully they won’t be very upset if Frisk took some of their things. Judging by the thick layers of dust, smudges on the wallpapers and mustiness, they’re not going to come back.

  
Nothing useful was found in the kitchen shelves just dirty dishes, the mini-fridge is empty, an old ashtray with cigarette butts and a half-empty bottle of female perfume were left on the table. Not surprise Toby run away from here, there’s not a bit of food left. Under the driver's seat she found a first-aid kit and decided to take it. She hoped she wouldn’t use bandages and medicines, but in her situation they might be needed. It’s better to have such a thing with her.

  
The glove compartment gave her another gift. Inside was a town map, a little dented but still intact. Frisk spread it on the table, took out an old red felt-tip pen and began to examine it. Silent Hill was divided into four districts. Two of them, Old and Central, made up most of the town and were located on the north side of Lake Toluca. Little Paleville lay on the northwest shore, and South Vale lay on the south. She was currently stuck on the outskirts of the last district.

  
First off, she marked Wiltse Road with a bright cross. Then she found several nearby streets leading away from the town. Those that went south probably connected with the highway leading to Brahms, which means she’ll be either very lucky or they all will be blocked off for road work. It’s better to check it. At least now she has a plan of action. All is better than wandering aimlessly in the fog.

  
When Toby got down from his seat on the couch and jumped onto the bed, the girl noticed the edge of the paper sticking out of the pillows. Interested, she pulled out a crumpled, hastily hidden letter, unfolded it and read:

  
_“Thanks for the good time, hot stuff! You’re just a heavenly miracle in this city of boring prudes. Do you want to have some more fun before leaving? Come to Neely’s Bar tonight, drinks at my expense! By the way, I'll take the key to the utility room, so we can spend the rest of the night in a more convenient place than your van. Waiting for you, baby._  
_-D."_

  
...she remembered seeing this bar on the map. Neely Street, pretty obvious. It’s unlikely that something was waiting her there, but maybe there’s at least one living person remained in Silent Hill. Maybe they’ll tell her how to get out of town if all the roads marked would be blocked. The girl looked uncertainly out of the dirty window. She didn’t want to return to the foggy streets.

  
Toby spun on the bed, enjoying the absence of his hosts. After a little thought, Frisk sat next to him and put her hands in soft fur. The dog was just waiting for this. He purred quite a bit, rolled over onto his back, exposing his furry belly. She giggled and scratched him, enjoying a short respite.

  
Frisk's attention was attracted by a red spot under a crumpled blanket. Pulling it off, the girl saw another piece of paper on which familiar seal was drawn unevenly. Noticing it, Toby immediately stood on his paws and growled. He jumped on a piece of paper, like it was his enemy, grabbed it in the teeth and began to shake. Somehow tearing the remainder from his fangs, Frisk straightened it. A familiar needle of pain stuck in the back of the head, the girl closed her eyes, waiting for the sensation to pass.

  
This symbol again. As if someone deliberately scatter them throughout the city, but for what? If the seal of Metatron is needed to banish evil, it clearly doesn’t work. Or it works, but in reverse? Maybe it doesn’t protect against curses, but casts them? One way or another, the mysterious symbol was in no hurry to reveal its secrets, like everything in this town. The girl crumpled up a slobbering paper and threw it on the bed. Toby joyfully rushed after the makeshift ball.

  
With a hopeless sigh, the girl picked up her backpack and plank, put the map in her jacket pocket - to get it out quickly if needed. Her gaze lingered on a perfume flask, standing alone on a dusty table. Not that she needed this thing, but... she never had her own belongings. Clothing were given to the orphanage, books and toys were for everyone, pens, exercise books and even her favorite notebook were given by other children donating to charity. The frills, such as jewelry or cosmetics, were out of question. She opened the perfume and sprayed a little on her hand. A pleasant, astringent floral smell momentarily dispelled the raw mustiness of the van. Giggling in excitement, the girl hid the bottle in backpack. Bella, Patty and Carol would be so jealous!

  
Toby was the first to jump out of the van and began to gaily circle on the overgrown lawn of nearest house. After a little hesitation, the girl followed him.

***

  
This time, she wasn’t even surprised to see a sturdy fence grid, blocking her path out of town. Lindsey and Neely Street did lead to the highway, and, as Frisk feared, were blocked. She couldn’t go through Munson and Saul Street intersection either - it was closed by the road block that came out of nowhere, and behind it was another crevice. If Frisk wasn’t sure before, then now she could say Silent Hill didn’t want to let her go.

  
Weird. She’s thinking more often about whether this town has its own evil will.

  
Another obstacle stood on the way to Nathan Avenue. The only unobstructed road there was a small stone alley separated from Munson Street, ran behind the apartment building and led into the park. It looked much friendlier than the one Frisk was stuck last time. The old, jagged walls are covered with vivid drawings; next to it were a playground and a scattering of old stone porches. The road to Rosewater Park was adorned with a brick arch closed by a familiar metal fence. However, for some reason this fence was covered with a thick, gray cloth, so the other side of the street wasn’t even visible. There was a door in the center, and above it, across the fabric in a semicircle, ran bright red letters:

  
_A wounded beast hides in the quiet depths._  
_Its dreams gave birth to monsters._  
_The door leading in its nightmares_  
_Will open at dusk of night._

  
The rusty door creaked terribly, but didn’t budge despite all attempts to open it. Frisk sighed heavily and pulled out her map - the amount of crosses on it was noticeably increased. After a little thought, she didn’t cross out the alley too, but drew a thick, even line on it. It says that the door will open, so... maybe she’ll have the chance to get into the park. Now there’s only one option left - the Neely’s Bar that the girl didn’t have high hopes about. In all this ghost town, she managed to meet only one person, although Frisk had already bypassed through most of South Vale. What’s the chance that this particular bar will be the exception?

  
Suddenly, Toby, who was sniffing the ground near the arch, barked and darted off somewhere. He flashed past the bewildered girl like white furball and disappeared into the thick veil of fog. Hastily thrusting the map into the jacket pocket, Frisk rushed after him. Courtyards and cozy porches, the entrance of Blue Creek apartment building, a lattice fence that overlaps Munson Street run before her eyes again. Where could this annoying dog go? He wasn’t the most reliable friend, and yet Frisk didn’t want to lose his company. Without it, her aimless walking in a quiet and foggy town became much scarier.

  
When she run out to Katz Street and didn’t find the dog, the girl brought fingers to her lips and whistled briefly - she had no other ways to call Toby. The dog didn’t answer, and his barking was swallowed by the reigning silence. Shivering nervously, Frisk walked, panting and sometimes whistling again. The street was stretching forward, and only after a while the girl realized she knew this place. That's right, - checking the map and looking around, she found the entrance to the Woodside apartment building.

  
Frisk shuddered. Then she quickened her pace. She didn’t want to be here.

  
The crunch of steps resounded in her ears. The only one who could entertain her was Toby, but the damn dog ran off at the wrong time. Now, wandering in the streets, trembling and hunched over in fear, she realized what was frightening her in the silence of Silent Hill.

  
Even lying in bed at night, she could hear at least some sounds. The measured breathing of her sleeping roommates. The distant rustle of mop from the janitor lady finishing her shift. The faint rumble of a cook washing dishes in the kitchen. The ordinary sounds of life, so quiet and familiar that the brain is simply used to not noticing them.

  
Silent Hill was completely devoid of these sounds, as well as life in general. Any noise that violated the absolute silence of this place seemed completely _unnatural_.

  
She stopped at a crossroad, noticing the Lucky Jade restaurant, and decided to check the map. But after a second she realized that something was wrong. Heart skipped a beat and sank into her stomach.

  
The sound of footsteps didn’t stop with her.

  
She never had the time to turn around. The back of her head exploded in dull pain, dark spots and white stars flashed under her eyes. Her legs bent, and she would’ve fallen directly face on the asphalt, if someone hadn’t grabbed her by the waist. The girl froze from shock and fright and went limp like a doll, allowing familiar hands to slowly lower her on the ground.

  
Chara thought the victim lost consciousness, and therefore was in no hurry. The woman put the dagger in its sheath, fastened with straps on her leg. When Chara tried to lift her, Frisk, who came to her senses, jerked sharply - and hit her with the back of the head in the face. The head responded with a new portion of pain, the fog in eyes scattered with black dots. The girl escaped from weakened hands, almost blindly reached for fallen plank. She walked away, rose to bent legs and raised her weapon.

  
She didn’t even aim. The woman, not losing a second, pounced on her, reaching out to her face, to her neck - and Frisk hit. The stick flew flat directly into Chara's stomach. The woman exhaled hoarsely, bent over and sank to her knees. Like a frightened kitten, Frisk jumped back and hit again. She aimed at her head, but the blunt end of the stick just scraped Chara on the shoulder not causing much harm.  
Desperate and frightened, barely thinking, but determined, Frisk struck for the third time. Her attempts to fight were interrupted by Chara’s annoyed growl. The woman intercepted a piece of wood flying at her and tore it out from the girl’s hands. Frisk’s courage ended on this, and she ran away with a shriek.

  
Noticing a metal gate, the girl burst into the courtyard and slammed it shut. Exhaling anxiously, she backed away. Soon, Chara’s silhouette slipped out of fog. Staggering, the woman fell on the grate, shook it roughly. It creaked, but didn’t move.

  
“You’re... such an insolent young lady.” She rustled between heavy, hoarse sighs. “No respect for the elders...”

  
Blood flowed freely from her nose, ran down on swollen lips and chin. Once styled hair were now in complete mess. The hastily tied up, crumpled hem of the robe over old jeans didn’t give her the usual shine of elegancy. But slanted eyes shined anxiously, desperately, painfully - they didn’t have the fury Frisk expected in them, only confusion and even fear... but fear of what?

  
Chara lowered her head as if in thought. Then she looked at the girl with a new, strangely unhealthy fire in her gaze.

  
“Why did she choose you? Haven’t I served Her all these years? I loved Her, I prayed to Her, I followed Her orders... and She abandoned me anyway… left me defenseless before this nightmare. She didn’t accept the last sacrifice, didn’t dispel the curse.” In irritation, the woman clenched her teeth with a gnash, hit the fence again. The gate creaked. Frisk backed away even further. “What’s so special about you? Why it has to be you? Why now?!”

  
Her frantic scream echoed through the empty streets. The girl continued to remain silent and scaredly huddle against the building wall, and Chara muttered feverishly under her breath:

  
“No, I shouldn’t question it... If She didn’t accept you and gave this power, there must be a reason. And I have to put up with it...”

  
Somewhat calming her trembling palms, she rummaged in her pockets and pulled out an oblong red object. Smiling, she laid it on the ground and pushed with her toe under the fence - right at the Frisk’s feet.

  
“This town won't let you out anymore. And if you want to survive in it... you’ll need this little thing. In the end, we don’t want anyone to get you before I do, right?” the woman moved away from the fence. Her pale, bloodied face with a smile on it looked like a mask of madness. “Darkness is coming. Godspeed, my child.”

  
Breathing out, lighter each time, the woman moved away from the fence, gave the girl one last look and disappeared into the fog, like a delusion created by the town itself. After waiting a few minutes and making sure that Chara wasn’t going back, Frisk picked up the object at her feet and examined it. A small pocket-sized radio made of red plastic is not really a thing she expected to receive as a present from a strange cultist. Frisk stretched out the antenna and tried to turn it on. The plastic box was stubbornly silent, no matter how long she caught the wave and adjusted the volume.

  
The girl frowned. A broken radio will totally help her out, sure thing. Chara is going crazy. No wonder, everything’s just messed up in this place. At first, Frisk was thinking of throwing away this useless object, but still she stuffed it into a second breast pocket. You never know what come in handy.

***

  
The Neely’s Bar was just around the corner. Walk along Katz Street to the intersection, turn right and walk until a bar sign is in sight. However, her way there took a little longer - Frisk kept looking around nervously and heeding, afraid to stumble upon Chara again. She picked up her stick - it seemed risky to go somewhere without it. She had no other weapon.

  
A small bar with dirt-gray glass stood alone at the crossing of streets. Its sign faded, became smudged, there was no light inside. If Frisk hadn’t found the note in the van, she would’ve never paid attention to this dull, abandoned place.  
The cracked door, despite the “Closed” sign, opened with a creak and let the girl into the bar. Inside, the room looked as disgusting as it was outside - old furniture, cracked tiles on the walls, a pile of rubbish and dirty dishes on the counter. The carpet threw out clouds of gray dust at each step. Frisk sneezed involuntarily.

  
The radio in her pocket made a rustling static sound. An answer came as a cough at the bar counter.

  
The girl screeched in surprise and covered her mouth. In the corner, in the shadow of the bar, something moved in displeasure. Frisk raised the stick and slowly, step by step, came closer. A sharp movement, a deathly pale face turned to her from the twilight. Squealing, the girl hit it right in the forehead.

  
The creature was unusually agile. It easily slipped under the plank and appeared behind Frisk.

  
“Hey, hey, why so nervous, kid?” the creature had a dull, mocking voice. Frisk turned and swung again. The stranger sidestepped with ease. “I was just resting here, and you already have a bone to pick with me.”

  
Inaudibly, as if by magic, he appeared right in front of the girl's face, and she nervously recoiled. The stranger smiled broadly.

  
“Calm down, kiddo. Don't you know how to greet a new friend? Come on, shake my hand.”

  
Frisk, still clinging nervously to her weapon, examined the stranger. He looked like a regular person... mostly. The face is smooth and white, like a skull, an empty cavity instead of a nose, black dips instead of eyes with bright light shining in them. Short, just slightly taller than her, in sweatpants, slippers and a baggy hoodie with a hood thrown over his head. The stranger held one palm in his pocket, the other - held out to her for a handshake. There was no skin on it, just dry bones and bleached phalanges of fingers.

  
He looked like a skeleton.

  
Well, he just looked like that. He couldn’t be a skeleton. It's silly to even think about it. Frisk was very confused by his strange appearance but quickly came to her senses. She should thank fate for this meeting - perhaps a strange short man will finally help her. Frisk shook his hand.

  
A long, awkward sound echoed in the quiet bar.

  
“Heh. The old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. It's always funny” he smiled, but the girl continued to sullenly examine his palm, narrowing her eyebrows. “Well, almost. Probably, it’s not the best time for a joke.”

  
He put his hand in his pocket.

  
“I'm Sam. But names have little power in this town.” He breathed quietly. Then awkwardly climbed onto the nearest bar stool and beckoned Frisk to him. ”Is that noise coming from you, kid?”

  
Frisk didn’t sit next to him. She took out the radio given by Chara. The box kept making nasty static sounds that turned on their own. The girl shoved it back with irritation – there’s no time to deal with this broken trinket.

  
She tried to ask Sam how to leave the city, but didn’t know if this strange person would understand her. At first he was perplexed, then smiled as he watched her spread her fists and wave her hands, so Frisk didn’t really hope for success. However, the man replied:

  
“Nope. Have no idea. If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here, y’know.” He finished grimly. “I don’t think that there’s any way out of this town.” The girl bowed her head in confusion. Sam explained: “You know, it’s like in those stories... about places frozen in time, time loops. Sometimes it seems to me that I'm stuck in one of them. That’s a joke, of course. Just because of the fog it seems like this place hasn’t changed for hundred years.”

  
He noticed how Frisk frown, lowered his voice and added:

  
“When it gets dark here, better not to go out on streets. Some locals can whittle you down to the bone, if you know what I mean.”

  
She didn’t smile back, but shook her head in exasperation. Sam shrugged. Sighing, the girl spread her hands, thanking him anyway. Then, with a little thought, she asked him who else could help her. Sam thought a little about her gestures, then shook his head.

  
“The only human I’ve seen in this town is you. My bro could’ve chat with you, but he works at Lakeside Amusement Park, in another area, so he won’t. Sorry, kid. I’d like to help if I could.”

  
Deciding not to waste time talking with this weirdo, Frisk went behind the bar counter - maybe there will be something useful. When she laid her hand on the door labeled “Staff Only”, Sam suddenly spoke again:

  
“If I were you, I'd be careful with the doors. Not all of them lead where you think.”

  
Frowning, the girl looked directly into his strange, black eyes and abruptly opened the door. Behind it lay a dirty kitchen. The man behind the counter grunted.

  
“Well, except this door. It doesn’t count.”

  
With an exasperated sigh, Frisk headed inside. The spark of hope inside her was replaced by a bonfire of anger. Why, of all the people living in this town, does she stumble into freaks only? That Sam didn't help a bit. Too many words and no sense.

  
The radio in her pocket finally shut up. Good, otherwise she would’ve broken this damned annoying thing.

  
The kitchen awfully smelled of musty and mold. The floor and walls were covered with a layer of greasy dirt, racks were crammed with unclean dishes. One of the sinks was filled with red, smelly water. The girl turned away in disgust.

  
Her attention was drawn to the kitchen knife lying on the counter. Nothing unusual - an ordinary chef's knife with a wide blade and a black plastic handle, easy to chop meat or vegetables with. Thinking a little, Frisk took it and weighed it in her hands. A little too heavy, and yet... it is a weapon much more serious than a piece of wood. Of course, she didn’t want to injure anyone or kill... but it’s better to take it just in case. Who knows what surprises the mysterious Silent Hill will throw at her.

  
She didn’t want to throw the stick out either - she stuck it in her backpack. The end of piece of wood stuck out of it, so Frisk fastened the zipper on both sides. Then she took a knife from the counter and waved it. A sharpened blade whistled through the air.

  
Sam said the town is getting dangerous at night. Now she won’t have to worry about it. Although Sam actually said a lot of things, and most of them made no sense. For example, he said that the only human he saw in the town was her, and then he talked about his brother. Is his brother not a human or something? And all these stories about doors and loops...

  
The door at the other end of the kitchen was jammed and didn’t open, Frisk grunted in frustration. That note said something about the key... Where could that person leave it? She looked around the kitchen again. Nothing unusual except a clogged sink. The girl came closer and looked inside. Why is it clogged?

  
The dirty water stank of rot and grease, but there was something dark at the bottom of the sink. Curiosity prevailed over disgust, Frisk rolled up her jacket sleeve, froze uncertainly and harshly lowered her hand into the water. The cold, clammy, nasty liquid squished, sucking in her palm like a swamp. Fingers groped a slimy clump of hair at the bottom. The girl jerked in revulsion. Fumbling a little around the bottom, she felt an oblong object tangled in hair and pulled it out. Her elbow bumped into a bottle on the counter and turned it over.

  
Spitting out and barely restraining nausea, Frisk threw the object on the counter and gutted the backpack looking for of a roll of paper towels. Only when she wiped her hands dry, the girl turned to the mess she made. The item actually was a key - a long, emerald green, smeared with dirt and grease. After wiping it, she distinguished the inscription on the label - "Dorothy"; the girl's face was engraved on the head. Someone must’ve tried to hide what this key was opening and instead left a hint. This is Dorothy from the tale about Wizard of Oz, right? She read it at school. Wonder what that can mean.

  
Finding no answer, Frisk hid key of Dorothy in her backpack.Only one thing remained lying on the counter - a brown bottle she accidentally turned over. It looks like a bottle with medicine, with a reddened label “Med-Plus”, smelled of herbs. Surely a medicine, then it will come in handy. After all, she’s rarely allowed to take things without permission.

***

When she returned to the bar, Sam wasn’t at the counter. For some reason, this fact upset her more than it should.

  
Empty and silent, the room looked even darker. Without losing any more time, Frisk resolutely headed for the exit. But as soon as she placed her hand on the door handle, a sharp static crunch cut through the silence. The startled girl shuddered with her whole body and backed from the door. Rummaging in her pocket, she pulled out a box that frightened her.

  
That radio again. What’s going on with that radio?

  
Irritated, exhausted, Frisk threw it on the floor in a fit of rage. It rolled down the carpet and disappeared under the table, continuing to make nasty hissing sounds. For a second, the girl stopped in thought. Why did Chara even give her this thing? How can it help? Should she throw it away like this? Resigned, Frisk sighed and went to pick up the plastic box. Maybe the radio is broken, but still it's a radio. It's a pity to leave it here. Perhaps she’ll be able to find someone who can fix it.

  
A windowpane burst behind her with a deafening roar.  
The girl jumped in place and spun around, raising her knife. The window in the corner lay in shards, but there was nothing and no one but thick fog behind. The radio continued to hiss in tense silence.

  
Until a piercing screech tore through it.

  
A dark figure crashed into the window opposite Frisk, smashing it too. The girl recoiled, covering her head with hands. The wings rustled. Something pricked her elbow painfully; a sharp blow in her chest threw her on the floor. Adrenaline jerked her to her feet and forced to throw the knife forward. There was a thin, piercing cry. Frisk backed away, a veil of shock fell from her eyes.

  
An incredible creature landed on the table in front of her, - not a bird, not a dragon, but both at the same time. A head with spikes and a leathery collar, long beak, elongated body covered with gray-blue feathers. The creature screeched shrilly, stretched out on two bird legs and rose above Frisk, rustling its huge wings. It rushed forward, curved talons aimed on her. The girl screamed and darted to the side. Claws scratched the void.

  
The creature flew a circle over the bar ceiling and fell at the prey squeezing beneath the counter, like a falcon on a rabbit. In its open beak were ranks of small, sharp saw-like teeth. Frisk frantically waved her knife. The blade scratched its wing, blood spattered, feathers fell around. Gray Screamer flew by, collapsed heavily on the floor. It got up, wings tightened, and turned back to the girl, then hissed. The leather collar opened wide in anger, the yellow snake eyes fixed on the victim.

  
The monster made a jerk forward, but Frisk waiting for a blow, dashed first. The knife left a long wound on the feathered chest, the creature gurgled. Flapping its wings, raising the dust, it soared up and hit the girl in the chest with its legs.

  
She was thrown on the floor, air knocked out of her chest. The knife slipped out of sweaty hand. The Screamer pressed her to the floor, tried to peck her in the face. Frisk jerked sharply, the beak pierced a hole in the carpet. In a second, the girl reached for a saving weapon. The monster hissed, struck again, aiming in the eyes, but just touched hair and skin on the cheek. Screaming frantically, Frisk thrust her blade into the feathered body above her.

  
A new cry nearly tore her ear membranes, so high-pitched it was. The monster bounced off her, fluttered its wings in panic. The girl screamed in unison with the monster and waved a knife, stepping in its direction. Waving its wings, the wounded Screamer sped away through a hole in the window.

  
The sounds of static rustled quieter and slowly died down. The chocking silence hung in the crushed bar yet again.  
Frisk allowed herself to fall on her trembling knees. The adrenaline rush made her head spin, as if it wasn’t able to handle what just happened.

  
Then, in the alley, she was sure she had seen a simple nightmare. She was sure that monster hunting her was nothing more than a creature of her mind. But now, examining the bar, she saw something different. A bloodstained knife, scattered feathers, upturned tables, broken windows. Burning pain in the long wounds left by the monster's beak, blood runs along the hands, face, neck in thin streams.

  
This is not a dream.

  
What’s happening to this place?!

  
She didn’t realize how long she was sitting in place, gathering her thoughts. Her head was spinning and rattling like a bell, ears filled with heat and pain - the piercing cry of a monster still rang in them. Hardly and carefully, Frisk got to her feet. Eyes stumbled upon a red box under an overturned table.

  
That’s the darkness Chara warned about. That's what for this radio is needed. It’s already here, this revived nightmare. And apparently, the situation won’t get better any time soon.

  
The girl picked up the radio with trembling fingers and put it in her pocket again. Then, frightened and scratched, but not broken yet, she got out to the dangerous streets, hidden by a reliable shroud of fog from the whole world.


End file.
